Page 59 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

What’s new.

The two share a look, and Belle quickly makes small talk. “What are your plans today?”

“Not sure,” Clara hedges.

Belle brightens. “Let’s go shopping.”

Clara looks to me like she’s seeking permission. Am I that controlling of her already? God knows, she could use the time to breathe. I’m smothering her, and my family is judging her. She should go with her friend and get away from all of us. If she has any sense, she’ll stay away. “I have a family thing, and I’m certain my father will require a few hours of explanation as to why I left last night.”

She mouths an apology, but I shake my head. I really am a monster if she’s apologizing to me for my family’s behavior.

“Then let’s go!” Belle claps her hands, looking giddy at the prospect of time together—and I feel a sting of jealousy. I wish anything in my life were that easy, particularly where Clara is concerned. “There’s a new boutique in Notting Hill.”

“Notting Hill on a Saturday will be a madhouse,” Philip finally speaks up, and naturally, it’s to sour their plans. He’s really an incredible wanker.

“I need to shower, and then we can go,” Clara says before turning to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I would love to, but duty calls.” It’s an honest answer if a somber one. I’d much rather spend my day attempting to lure Clara into dark corners.

Philip snorts next to me.

My fingers close over my fork more tightly. “Is that funny?”

“I find the idea of you and duty rather amusing,” he admits.

“Philip!” Belle bursts out.

“I served in Afghanistan and Iraq for seven years,” I growl. The time for courtly pleasantries is over. Sir Philip needs to remember his rung on the ladder, both socially and as a man. “I know more about duty than the average Englishman can fathom.”

“And what of honor?” he presses. “Did you manage to find some over there? Or is it too late for that?”

I won’t lower myself to answer stupid questions from a fragile man. He doesn’t know me. He’s chosen to believe the gossip and rumors, and I fear a moment longer with him will result in me wringing the bloody life from his neck. He deserves worse. I march to the bedroom and throw on the rest of my clothes, sending a message to Norris to pick me up. What on earth is Belle doing with a man like that? I can’t help wondering if my initial impressions of her are wrong. She doesn’t seem like a social-climbing bitch. I’d found her rather kind, a poor match for him.

He doesn’t know anything about duty—about watching good men go to fight and come home in boxes. Friends. He’s never given up his life for the family’s reputation or taken the fall for a terrible secret. I can only assume, giving his inexplicable self-confidence, that he also didn’t grow up being measured and found wanting at every opportunity.

Clara catches me steps from the door. “You don’t have to go.”

“I have things to do,” I don’t break my stride. I’m nearly gone when I remember that none of this is her fault. She’ll blame herself if I leave like this.

Twisting around, I hook an arm around her waist and yank her to me, covering her lips—claiming her so that there’s no doubt that I’m a man who takes what he wants—and fuck anyone who takes issue with that. Her body softens into mine, stirring dangerous thoughts. I pull away and brush a finger over her swollen lower lip.

“Have fun today,” I murmur. One of us should, and if I had to choose, I’d want it to be her.

She nods and forces a smile. “We will. Notting Hill is my favorite place in London.”

I pause and tuck away that tidbit. I want to know all of Clara’s favorites—places and people and dreams. Now’s not the time for that, though. “See you soon, poppet.”

A door opens as I descend the steps and an older woman with unkempt silver hair peeks out. She looks me up and down, bites back a smile, and retreats into her flat. It’s not been nearly as messy as I feared: staying over. But I can’t help wondering how long that will last. I bypass the front entrance and a herd of paparazzi waiting outside it and turn to exit out a secret entrance Norris discovered after looking at the building plans. There’s enough speculation about Clara and me at the moment. She deserves some peace. Norris is waiting for me as I step out. A few meters away, there’s a bomb shelter—a holdover from the Blitz undoubtedly and the reason there’s the unused door in the first place.

“I need to tell Clara about this,” I inform him as he opens my car door.

“Sir?”

I shoot him a warning look, and he sighs. “Alexander?”

“The door. She shouldn’t have to deal with all those sodding reporters.”

Norris doesn’t speak as he closes the door and circles to the driver’s side. When he shifts into drive, he finally glances over his shoulder at me.